


let me

by sunnilee



Series: best laid plans: contingencies [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: ...so this happened, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Day 7: Free Day, F/M, Post-Relationship, T for innuendo bc i'm incapable of anything else, listen i saw this fanart of not even sylvgrid but i felt the energy, stealth edits bc idk how to edit otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24599893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnilee/pseuds/sunnilee
Summary: Over the years, Ingrid hasn't let Sylvain get away with a lot of things....but there are some exceptions.
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: best laid plans: contingencies [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776142
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35
Collections: Sylvgrid week 2020





	let me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paperpenpal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperpenpal/gifts), [Julx3tte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julx3tte/gifts), [nicole_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicole_writes/gifts).



> y'all goad me so much, so here-

Ingrid has just finished eating her dinner when she hears frantic knocking on her apartment door, followed by rapid buzzing from her phone. Several messages pop up on her screen, all from the same person.

_Ingrid?_

_Are you home?_

_Please tell me you’re at home._

_I’m already here._

_Let me in!!_

_I wanna see you._

_Please?_

_…I’m hungry and I can smell your dinner._

She’s halfway to the door by the third message, and by the time she swings open the door, Sylvain tumbles in and wraps her in the sweatiest hug while peppering her face with kisses. “Ingrid! Felix wrangled me into summer conditioning the minute I got back and he killed me today… I’m tired, sore, bruised, and hungry—”

“ _And_ sweaty, and stinky, and _rubbing it all over me_.” Her tone is stern as she pushes away from his chest, but she can’t help the smile that grows on her face when her boyfriend whines and tries nuzzling closer. “Ingriiiiiiiiiiiid, let me love you!”

Ingrid finally wriggles out of his grasp and Sylvain’s puppy eyes stare back at her, pout in full force. “You can love me by _taking a shower_ and changing your clothes.”

His pout deepens and she can feel her resolve waver… until she catches another whiff of the aftermath of training with Felix. “ _Go_. You know where everything is. I’ll make you some dinner.”

She watches Sylvain sigh dramatically and continue his theatrics until he disappears into her room, shooting her one last betrayed look before closing the door behind him.

There’s a moment of hearing the slide of her closet door and dresser drawers, quick and efficient. Once the shower turns on, Ingrid busies herself in the kitchen. Her fridge was usually stocked with Sylvain’s favorites, considering how often he came over. In that same line of thought, Sylvain had come over so often, that she didn’t even have time to buy groceries to restock his favorites. The only things she had left was his tin of bergamot tea, some berry jam, and the peach sorbet he brought over last time.

Sighing, she scraps together some seared meat with vegetables and makes a mental note to go grocery shopping tomorrow. After covering Sylvain’s dinner with foil, Ingrid takes the ice cream back to her room. She flops onto her bed and rolls onto her stomach, cracking open _Moon Knight’s Tale_.

As she immerses herself in the story, Ingrid loses track of time and loses track of how much sorbet she’s eaten when her bathroom door opens, steam rolling out with Sylvain. “Ingrid, toss me my pants?”

Her eyes flicker up from her book and she freezes. He’s wrapped only in a towel, and there’s still water dripping from his hair to his bare skin. Ingrid feels a flush pool in her cheeks and the spoon in her mouth dangles loosely between her lips before dropping to the floor. His shoulders somehow seem broader without his shirt on, and how did she never get a good look at his arms? She spots the new bruises forming on his forearms, but quickly looks away before her eyes linger too long on his chest. She clears her throat, “What?”

“My pants. You’re lying on top of them.”

She looks down. Sure enough, she is. When she looks back up, Sylvain’s eyes dart back up to hers, mischief lighting his features. _That_ riles her up. “No, come over here and get it yourself—”

“Okay.”

Ingrid shifts cautiously on the bed, blush growing hotter as Sylvain slowly stalks closer with a _different_ look in his eyes. “Sylvain…” Her wobbly warning completely ineffective with the way his grin widens when he reaches the edge of the bed.

One of his hands plants itself at the side of her bed, the other reaching around her waist, forcing her to turn onto her side to face him. Her book tips over the side, but she can hardly bring herself to care with the smell of her own body wash filling her senses, the warmth from Sylvain’s skin surrounding her completely. His face draws closer and his hot breath washes over her mouth, setting her nerves on fire. She flounders as his nose grazes hers, voice trembling, “Sylvain, this wasn’t what I meant—”

His lips close over hers and Ingrid is lost to him and the feel of his mouth working leisurely over hers. Her body slides toward him as he climbs completely onto her bed, caging her against him. The hand on her waist sears her skin through her clothes as he brings her fully into his lap, his tongue swiping at the seam of her lips. Heat pools in Ingrid’s stomach as her legs wrap around him, hips slotting together. A low groan rumbles in his chest, resonating into hers as he presses her even closer, fingers digging into her. She runs a hand through his damp hair, the other clutching at his wet shoulders, trying to anchor herself to something. _Anything_. A soft whimper escapes her throat as he curls his tongue around hers and Ingrid arches into him, hazily wondering if she would ever get used to kissing Sylvain.

 _Especially_ when he kissed her like this.

Every part of her that he touched would burn for hours after, her skin tingling and craving more. She’s on the last reserves of her oxygen when he pulls away, resting his forehead against hers, pupils dilated and self-satisfied smirk on his face. Electricity shoots down her spine as he licks his lips. Then, his eyes dart to her nightstand. “Did you finish my ice cream?”

“I—” Ingrid, still trying to catch her breath, follows his gaze to the empty tub. “I guess I did.”

Sylvain’s eyes darken and Ingrid feels even more blood rush to her face when he looks back at her. “I’m sorry, I lost track of how much I ate… we can go buy more tomorrow—”

Her suggestion is cut off when Sylvain seals his lips against hers again, one of his hands sneaking under her shirt to rest against her bare back, inching higher. His fingers brush against her ribcage and she shudders, legs tightening around his waist. He hums into her mouth as his other hand slides up her thigh, burning as it goes.

“It’s okay, Ing. Let me taste you instead.”

**Author's Note:**

> happy sylvgrid day 7: free day  
> meaning shower tropes and more making out for lost time ;).
> 
> THIS IS MY LAST COMPLETED DOCUMENT FOR SYLVGRID AND IT'S BEEN A JOURNEY...
> 
> thank you to everyone who encouraged me all the way to this point!!


End file.
